A Boy and His Wolf
by Reiven
Summary: Yuriy/Brooklyn, Yuriy/Wolborg. Brooklyn reflects on his felings for Yuriy, and his jealousy of Wolborg's part in Yuriy's life.


**Disclaimer**: ((Insert Random Disclaimer here.))

_Some lines are from Alexander (The best movie ever created, along side LoTR Trilogy) so I don't own them either._

**A Boy and His Wolf.**

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He could only watch on, helplessly; there was nothing he would be able do with Balkov keeping an ever-watchful eye. Green eyes glinted sadly as the owner of them watched the current match being played. No, it wasn't a match; it was a bashing. Yuriy would kill himself if he didn't submit defeat. Garland would hurt him to the very inch of his life, and there was nothing Brooklyn could do to stop him.

He could not turn his eyes away, because he feared that if he did, it would be the last time he would see the sight of those icy-blue orbs of his lover. What if he turned his eyes away now, would Yuriy glance at him? Would he lose concentration when he realized that the one person he loved most was ashamed to set eyes on him. Brooklyn wasn't ashamed, he was afraid. He could not bear to lose the one person he cared about; he loved most in the world. But Yuriy saw the world differently than other people. It was something not many people knew about him, except perhaps, for Kai.

Being raised in the Abbey since he was a little boy had done things to him, not may people could imagine or would want to imagine. If someone looked away from him in fear and sadness, his brain could easily mistake it for contempt and shame. If someone looked at him with sympathy, he would assume the person wanted something from him in return. It was something he learned; the environment he grew up in and would undeniably succeed in making him a casualty of society. What do people say, whisper to each other as their eyes convey the ruthless member of the Neo Borg?

_Shame_.

Brooklyn understood why he turned out the way he did. Why he scrutinizes everything that crosses his path with eyes so cold, they send shivers up your spine. It was all in the name of self-preservation. He lived to take care of himself; protect himself from the dangers that public pose against him.

Brooklyn loved him for it.

Brooklyn loved every single thing about him, from the fiery shade of his hair, similar but completely different from his own; the icy contras of his blue eyes that reflects the cold soul residing within them. The way he holds himself with such dignity and grace, but at the same time, feral and dangerous, like Wolborg. His Wolf bit-beast was his perfect match, it was as if Wolborg had been the beast equivalent of Yuriy. Wolborg was a part of Yuriy. He was the Yang to Yuriy's Yin.

There were times when they lay in bed together, as Brooklyn caressed his pale cheek and looked at his serene face, lost in the pleasant dreams that seized his thoughts; his mind would cloud, and jealousy would surface when he remembered the bond Yuriy had with Wolborg. It was not something he could take away from them, and that hurt him, dearly, because then he knew that no matter how much he loved Yuriy, and Yuriy loved him back; their bond would never be whole. A part of Yuriy would forever belong to Wolborg and Wolborg alone.

The Wolf cared about Yuriy, as much, if not even more so then himself. They had been together for years, an eternity before Brooklyn even knew the existence of sacred beasts, let alone knowing that one day, he would be fighting for the affection of one boy, against the spirit of a beast. The irony gripped him and he had to laugh sorrowfully, the small hole in his heart making itself known once more.

He would always have Yuriy's love. He would always be able to dwell in the comfort and warmth of the other boy's body heat when they lay together during the cold nights of winter. He would always be able to taste the sweetness of Yuriy on his lips as his eyes opened at first light of the day, or smell the cool scent of his body when they bathe in the warm bathtub if the weather was too chilly to allow activity. He would always be able to look forward to gaze into the hypnotising eyes of his koi after a day of intense training. He would always have Yuriy's Heart … but not his Soul.

It was never meant for the young Russian to only belong to one person … or spirit; Brooklyn understood that now. He was a free spirit that had to be able to make his own choices, be his own person. Not have someone mould him to perfection; though, it was an impossible feat, because by nature … Yuriy was already _perfect_.

Brooklyn understood it perfectly now. Yuriy superiority didn't allow him to be owned; he would never be Brooklyn's Yuriy. Not Balkov's Yuriy, Nor Kai's Yuriy.

When people looked back in time, as the years decline and the memories fade, it will always be remembered that Yuriy was his own person; he had no owner, nor had he pledged allegiance to anyone. What people would see in their minds eye would be the vision of Yuriy, standing side by side with Wolborg; the boy and his beloved Wolf.

For this time, Brooklyn pushed away all his thoughts and doubts. He had Yuriy now, and it was that that mattered. No matter what obstacle stood in his way. Even if there was the slight chance that perhaps, some time in the future, Yuriy's love for him evaporated, or if death came up and consumed him, bringing him down to meet the Devil himself. He would always be certain that his heart and soul would belong to only one person, the real red-devil, Yuriy Ivanov.

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**The End.**


End file.
